


Please Eat

by saidno1ever



Series: You're Sick, I Hate You and Love You For It [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Humantale, Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Gen, Mental Instability, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6865210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saidno1ever/pseuds/saidno1ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not your body that I love, but it's the shell you're inside of and you're killing it. You're killing the only piece of you I can touch</p><p>(Papyrus likes spaghetti very much.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Eat

"You don't have to stay, if you don't want to." Ms. Toriel's tone has it's usual sense of gentle suggestion. 

You shake your head, "I don't mind _sticking_ around." 

She snorts a soft laugh, her eyes closing, "Alright, my child, if you insist." Then she turns her head back to her book. 

You watch her eyes skim over a few lines, before resting your head on the tabletop and gazing sideways at your brother. He's sitting in the right half of the wooden chair, stiff and unusually silent. The pink veins in his eyes have stretched, tinting his eyes with a look of frustration. 

In front of the both of you are two plates. The left one is empty, the right one holds a small heap of mashed potatoes and two crispy fish sticks. They were steaming an hour ago when Ms. Toriel had placed them on the table, now they sat possibly frozen. 

Papyrus' eyes don't leave the plate and neither does the food. You shift around in the chair, trying to get blood circulating back to your outer leg. 

The TV plays softly in the next room and Ms. Toriel occasionally flips a page. You scratch your side, "Can I just eat it?" 

"No, Sans." Ms. Toriel says gently, "Papyrus needs to eat." 

Your brother's mouth barely opens, "I want spaghetti." 

"Eating nothing but spaghetti isn't healthy, Dear. You're a growing boy, you need nutrients and at the very least a variety in your diet." 

His lip trembles slightly. 

"Papyrus, I didn't give you that much. Look, Sans ate his dinner." Ms. Toriel tries to reason. 

You shift again, "Yeah, but I eat everything." 

"That's-" 

"Yesterday I ate a dime." 

Ms. Toriel stutters on what she was going to saying, blinking repeatedly at you. You close your eyes. 

"I'm sorry, what? You ate a dime?" 

"Yeah, I know. It doesn't make any cents." 

This earns a confused chuckle as Ms. Toriel tries to determine whether or not you're joking. You open your eyes enough to wink at Papyrus. He looks slightly less upset, but doesn't touch the plate. 

Once Ms. Toriel's laughter subsides, she goes back to her book. You stare at the inside of your eyelids and feel Papyrus' subtle shifts in the chair. His outer leg is probably loosing feeling too. You scoot off the chair a bit. 

 

An hour passes. It's seven fourteen and the streetlights have switched on. You hear the book pages crinkle as they are laid facedown on the table. 

"Is Sans asleep?" Ms. Toriel asks softly. 

You feel Papyrus move again then a chair creaks, "Please eat your dinner, Papyrus." 

The command earns no verbal response, instead you hear soft footsteps. They gradually fade and one of the doors in the house creaks shut. 

You squint at Papyrus. 

"She went to the bathroom." He mumbles, nudging the plate toward you. 

You sit up, snatching up his fork. The mashed potatoes are cold and lumpy as you gulp them down and the fish stick tastes like a popsicle that has been fried. As soon as you swallow, you drop your head back down and Papyrus reluctantly crams the remaining fish stick into his mouth. 

He's still chewing when Ms. Toriel returns. 

"Good job, Papyrus!" She beams, cheerfully taking his plate and yours', "My cooking wasn't that bad, was it?" 

Papyrus swallows hard then shivers hard enough to shake you. 

You squint through one eye as Ms. Toriel returns to the table, "...Hn?" 

"Sans, your brother finished his dinner!" 

Your eye slides back closed, "Good job, Pap. Knew you couldo it."


End file.
